


Gotcha

by dizzzylu



Series: Tumblr Fic [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: College, M/M, POV Outsider, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-22
Updated: 2013-07-22
Packaged: 2017-12-20 23:12:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/893014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dizzzylu/pseuds/dizzzylu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>blue's prompt: someone walks in on stiles and derek having a “yay you’re home from college” enthusiastic reunion. </p>
<p>I'm not very comfortable with writing only humour, so some feels leaked through. (<a href="http://dizzzylu.tumblr.com/post/55171675785">originally posted to tumblr</a> 11 July 2013)</p>
    </blockquote>





	Gotcha

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blue_fjords](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blue_fjords/gifts).



> blue's prompt: someone walks in on stiles and derek having a “yay you’re home from college” enthusiastic reunion. 
> 
> I'm not very comfortable with writing only humour, so some feels leaked through. ([originally posted to tumblr](http://dizzzylu.tumblr.com/post/55171675785) 11 July 2013)

It's not hard for John to leave the station early; he's been talking about Stiles coming home for a week now, and though the entire force thinks of Stiles as their son at this point, John's sure his excitement has gotten annoying. It's not like they're shoving John out the door, but there's a glint in Patty's eye that says she'd like to. 

"Don't forget to stop by tomorrow," John shouts over his shoulder just before the door closes behind him. He'll pretend he imagined the shouts of relieved elation he heard through the glass.

Before he starts the cruiser, he runs through his mental checklist for the welcome home barbecue: the Boyds and Melissa have the sides covered, Derek's procuring only enough alcohol for a dozen adults, give or take (or so John is choosing to believe), and Erica's grandma insisted on planning the dessert spread, so all that's left for John to do is pick up the massive meat order Derek put in at the market.

It takes three trips and more Styrofoam than John's seen in his life, but they get it into the cruiser. Even with the drifts of white staring at him in the rear view mirror, John worries if it's enough to feed his bottomless pit of a son, six werewolves, and their friends and family. 

It's moments like these, with the equivalent of a small herd of cows stuffed in his car, not to mention the flock of chickens, that John questions every decision that brought him to Beacon Hills. Now that it's more or less calm, supernaturally speaking, it's usually only a momentary panic, but it hasn't always been so easy to accept.

John isn't surprised to see the Jeep in the driveway when he pulls up. Stiles may think it's gotten easier for him to lie to dear old dad, now that it mostly occurs over the phone or through Skype, but John has always been able to sniff out a lie. It's whether he wanted to push it or not that had been the issue for so long. This time, though, he was more than content to let Stiles believe that John was falling for the story: that Scott and Stiles were going to take their time driving home, see some sights, stretch their legs, maybe stop by the ocean. 

Not that John believed a single word of it. 

What Stiles seems to have forgotten is that John was once young and in love, too. Separated by a distance not as far as three hours, but sometimes even three _minutes_ can feel too far.

So no, the Jeep is not a surprise. The lack of a sleek black Camaro _is_. For a wild minute, the length of the trip from the cruiser to the porch, John wonders if Derek isn't more decent than John likes to give Derek credit for. That, maybe, Derek figured he would give Stiles this first day with his dad before claiming him for what will surely turn out to be the rest of the summer. 

The goodwill toward Derek lingers long enough for John to get inside the house and shout a hello to Stiles. He can see the shape of someone moving around in the kitchen and heads there first. 

"Made good time, I see," he teases into the quiet, throwing his coat over the his chair at the table. He turns, expecting to see Stiles, but what he gets is Derek instead, hair sticking up in forty-two different directions, a little red mark under his ear that fades before John can take a breath. 

(John still hasn't really gotten used to werewolf healing.)

What doesn't fade is the blush in Derek's cheeks and the tips of his ears. The missing button on his henley. The amusement John can't seem to tamp down. He shakes his head to lose the smile and leans against the door frame, arms crossed over his chest.

"My kid's got you on KP duty already, Derek?"

Derek's Adam's apple bobs around his swallow. "Just trying to help, sir. Figured you guys wouldn't want dishes getting in the way of Stiles' first night home." His eyes dart from John back to the plate Derek's drying in short, careful strokes.

John's hum of agreement is drowned out by Stiles' voice coming from the top of the stairs. "Derek? Was that my dad's car I heard?" It has that particular tone where Stiles is trying for nonchalance but it comes out a bit squeakier than Stiles intends. 

It makes it hard for John to keep his chuckle in and he ends up covering it with a cough. "Come down here and see for yourself." 

Its only been a couple of months since Stiles was home for Spring Break, but even so, there are new changes to catalogue: his longer hair and the bags under his eyes, the t-shirt that hangs loose at his waist, but stretches tight over his chest. Stiles is taller, too. Than John, at least. Enough that he has to tilt his head up, just a little. 

The clatter down the stairs is the same, though, noise enough for twelve instead of one, arms flailing, feet pounding. The hug is still as tight as ever, too, Stiles' hands fisted in John's coat, his knobby chin digging into John's shoulder. His quiet, "Hi dad," right in John's ear.

It takes a few extra seconds to ease out of Stiles' vise grip, but then John's able to really get a good look at him. He looks tired, sure, but there's a glint in his eye that John suspects isn't meant for him. The soft pink skin around Stiles' mouth and chin don't help matters, either. And then John's gaze drops to Stiles' neck and the vivid bruise blooming in the hollow; further to the buttons of Stiles' shirt, some missing, the rest buttoned off-kilter. John flicks at a mismatched hole and watches the flush rise in Stiles' cheeks.

Stiles pushes at John's hand and makes his way into the kitchen. "Yeah, yeah. Sheriff thinks he's so smart. Don't think Scott and I don't know what you and Mrs McCall have been up to."

John chuckles, arms crossed over his chest, and watches Stiles help Derek with the dishes. It's good to see some things never change.


End file.
